


A Path Left Unwalked

by pyrophilliac (V3RT1G0)



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: AAA - Freeform, Gen, Moonstone, Nine Lives Ceremony, also killing is mentioned!!, an alternate timeline to TBP, i'm working on TBP i swear, the major character death is only because it's starclan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 20:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10861092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V3RT1G0/pseuds/pyrophilliac
Summary: In another place, this time in new-leaf, there is a she-cat with two medicine cats and life, not death, on her heels. Her name is the same, Driftshade, a sad name. But this time, she is not sad. She mourns only for herself.Driftshade has fears, and of course, she faces them.It is time for a new ending.-





	A Path Left Unwalked

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the same 'verse as TBP, though of course, Driftshade doesn't die. Ayy. A basic nine-lives story for a contest.

It is near midnight, and a mackerel tabby she-cat pushes her way through the almost palpable dim, two other cats behind her. Bathing the landscape, the luminous moonlight floods the moorland. It is almost overhead; a clear sign the cats need to pick up their pace.   
A tall and thin feline behind the leader looks towards the sky. “The moonstone isn’t far,” he says, “We need to hurry.”  
The others nod- their steps become faster as they approach a tall stone mass. A hole as cavernous as a yawning cat’s maw lurks behind a boulder, and one by one, the three meander into the gap.   
At the front, there is a reddish-grey she-cat with pockmarked fur the color of an ashy sequoia, her head low and posture slouchy. Trailing behind, the tall grey cat turns to her. “Driftshade?” he asks, checking that she isn’t getting claustrophobic.   
Driftshade hums a quick answer, eyes focused on the stone underneath her paws. The pads are overworked, soft skin thin and scraped. She ignores it, and continues on through the blackened tunnel, cold granite walls oppressive and small.   
The third cat is younger, and has a slight frame covered in short mottled fur. She looks to her mentor, Aspenbark, and then back to the ground. The moonstone is intimidating and new, and StarClan, from what Mallowpaw has heard, is powerful and wise- yet scary. Shaking her head, she abandons the thoughts.   
They get closer, and the moon’s beams have just aligned with the colossal mass of stonework in the center of the caves of Mothermouth. Driftshade looks up- it stands tall, and she takes a step back- however, with a nudge from Aspenbark, she reluctantly lays down, nose almost touching the frigid boulder.   
The medicine cat looks at her, and asks, “Are you ready?”  
She smiles, and lies. “Yes.”   
“It’s okay,” he laughs, “No one is.”  
Mallowpaw connects with it first, and Driftshade sees the almost electric shock that courses through her body as she is vaulted to StarClan. Next, Aspenbark settles into the ground, and he isn’t as surprised when he enters the heavens. The almost-leader can’t bring herself to do the same; her brother will be there.   
He should be here, she thinks. Regret is an odd thing, for it comes so easily and quickly. And Dawnstream! Fighting back the hot lump of guilt, she swallows, though her throat is dry. Pushing her nose to the stone, Driftshade thinks of her siblings.   
It is like being born again; it’s painful, and so bright… The starlight flows through her like new blood, and it’s cold, so cold, and she whimpers in pain. The she-cat’s paws feel stabbed and sore, and she can’t breath. The air is so thin; perhaps StarClan isn’t welcoming her after all.   
“Driftshade?” a voice calls, and then the hurt disappears, and she can breath again.   
Opening her eyes, the landscape is speckled with stars; the ground is transparent, and everything past a group of cats is dark. “StarClan?” she calls.   
Driftshade isn’t ready for leadership, or that’s what she tells herself, after what she’s done. It is rather surprising for her to be supported by the ancestors, and she automatically looks for her brother and sister. Mallowpaw and Aspenbark are gone- though she takes it in stride.  
“Welcome, Driftshade,” an almost invisible cat says, his jaw twisted and broken. Said cat tries not to stare at his mangled maw, and waits for him to continue. “I once led this clan, many, many, seasons ago. You have come here for your nine lives, yes?”  
Driftshade says nothing.   
“Don’t think like that,” he adds, eyes smiling. “You must forgive yourself to bring your clan to greatness. You have worked your way up, and you have shown that yes, you are worthy. I know loss; you do as well, but I led my clan, and so will you.”

He retreats into the looming shadows, and a familiar cat steps out- Birdstar! She smiles and laughs when she sees her old leader.. “Driftshade,” he says, simply, and then she begins to feel better.   
“Birdstar!” she calls.  
Purring, the former leader strokes her shoulder with his tail. “It is customary for the predecessor of the new leader to give a life. To follow tradition, so will I. Driftshade,” he pauses. “I present for you the life of instinct. You always have a plan, yet you tend to overthink and overanalyze. Sometimes, your gut is right- and as a leader, you are often required to follow it.”  
Speechless, Driftshade is still as he presses his muzzle to hers. It doesn’t hurt, per se, but it feels airy and strong- a heavy breeze, perhaps, and now she feels as if she is right. Her blood is alight with the surety of StarClan. “Thank you!” she calls, but Birdstar has faded into the stars.

After him, an orange and white warrior emerges from the shadows, his fluffy tail trailing behind him. His yellow eyes are as motherly as ever, and he stutters a greeting as Driftshade’s eyes light up. “Foxleaf!”   
“Hello,” he says, his paws shifting. He was never the type for conversation, she recalls. “Have you missed me?”  
It takes masses of her self-control not to bury her nose in his soft fur, and she laughs at the former medicine cat. “Of course. Birdstar was lost without you.”  
He swallows dryly, casting an uneasy glance to where the said leader is. “I’d like to think so.”   
Driftshade sees the love in his gaze, and wishes that she could be that happy.  
“Moving on. I give you the life of trust- your clan is there for you, and no matter your personal struggles, they’ll be right behind you.” He flicks an ear. “You should trust in your clan, for they trust in you. Never doubt that.”   
Leaning forward, Driftshade touches her nose to his, euphoria filling her veins- it is like a soft moss nest, feathers adorning the comforting feeling of belonging. Her eyes are shut tightly, and when she opens them, the perception is gone- and the former medicine cat has turned away. 

Awaiting the next life eagerly, Driftshade unsheathes and then retracts her claws. The starry air is cold, and though she is warm, dread forms in her stomach at the thought of her siblings. She wishes for another chance, and her head clots with regret- it is only interrupted by the strong voice of a tall she-cat, pelt shining like the moon itself.   
Silversky stands tall, the air of her former glory still thick around her. Her expression is hard, and determined; though when Driftshade makes eye contact with the former deputy, her gaze becomes loving and motherly, and she purrs in delight. “Driftshade.”  
Said cat smiles wider, her paws itching to train with her again. “My brother- he learnt well.” At the words, she turns away, eyes glassy. “He should be here.”  
Looking upwards in thought, Silversky pauses. “Perhaps,” she says, “But you are here now.” And then she leans closer, her whiskers touching the younger feline’s; and she begins to laugh. “With this life, I give you confidence. You are a leader, and you need to recognize it.”  
Their muzzles touch, and Driftshade’s eyes bloom. Her blood is now so cold, it feels like fire, and her heart is beating- Silversky gives her a knowing look, and she utters a “Thank you…” as she takes in the feeling. It fades, though the strength is there. 

Silversky retreats, the former deputy pleased. An unknown cat approaches next; he is light and sandy, lean build muscular and fur weathered. His eyes are bright, and he walks with the air of a leader. Frowning, Driftshade tries to recall where she knows him from, for he looks familiar. “Hello,” he says.   
“H-hello?” Driftshade replies, hesitantly. Blue eyes smile back at her.   
Sighing, he says, “You don’t know me- I’m Fallowstar, WindClan’s old leader.”   
That’s all he has to say, for now she knows. It was one of the last battles; the one of Ryepaw- no, Ryestem’s, assessment. The other side’s leader fell, and she recognizes the pelt, albeit clean and not blood-soaked. “I’m sorry,” Driftshade mumbles.   
“Don’t be,” he sighs. Fallowstar’s eyes then become serious, and he looks straight at her. “Respect. I had that for you, training your apprentice peacefully amidst war. I give you the life to respect others and their decisions, no matter what you think of them.”  
His nose is cold, and the feeling Driftshade feels is so calm- a sort of passive blindness, and kindness, a like of others. She feels so peaceful, and sighs in happiness- “I appreciate it.” she says. Fallowstar nods slowly, and goes. 

Something hurts as she sees the next cat, and her father only looks euphoric. He runs to her, and nuzzles her shoulder affectionately- “How I’ve missed you.”   
Worries forgotten, Driftshade grins. She can’t wait for his life; now, all is alright. The clearing is replaced with memories of peace, and moss-ball in the nursery, her father laughing alongside her siblings. Palefire, too, though she is safe and proud in the elders’ den. “You have no idea, Hawkflight…”  
Purring, he answers, “I assume you know- I’m here to give you a life. I present to you compassion; for as a leader, you need it. You must know everyone in your clan, and what to do, for they are yours.” He then presses his nose to hers, and she bites her tongue in pain.   
It is the pain of every cat, every cat in the forest. Her paws, her head, her heart, they all feel clawed and burned. Driftshade swallows the hurt, and looks up. She will defend her clan, so they never feel this, for they are all that she lives for. She will protect them. “Thank you,” she says, and her father smiles and retreats into the stars. 

She tries to guess at the next cat, though to no avail. Perhaps her sister, her brother? It is scary, and Driftshade wants her father again. However, her doubts are quenched like thirst in the green-leaf heat. Her mentor pads into the galactic clearing, his pelt shiny and thick like it was while she was training. His dulled eyes were awake and shining, and he looked excited and nostalgic- she could say the same for herself. “Rainpool?”  
“My apprentice!” Rainpool flicks an ear. “Look what I’ve done.” They both laugh, days of wet fur under the new-leaf sun and fish shared resurfacing.   
Those days were her happiest; the days before the prophecy. It was so broken, so messed-up, for an apprentice to deal with it. They did, and though she was leader now, she yearned for those simple times. Shaking her head, the memories flew like droplets of water off of fur.   
“Redfrost, he should be up here,” Driftshade sighs.   
Letting out a breath laced with disappointment, Rainpool steps closer. “Shame you think that. I give you the life of education; to teach your clan like you did Ryestem, with peace and dignity. Though as a leader, you must also be able to learn- everyone in your clan has something you need.”  
When they touch, an electric feeling of purity courses through her body- her mind stretches and snaps, bends and breaks and she feels wise, yet young. “Wow,” she says, eyes unfocused.   
“Yeah,” Rainpool laughs, and after a quick lick on the shoulder, turns away. 

A cat she doesn’t know emerges from the shadows. Her pelt is glowy and soft in the starlight, and her green eyes are determined and headstrong. Looking down at Driftshade, the mysterious cat says, “Welcome, Driftshade.”  
Coming across as rude is anything but what she wants to do; so she smiles, and politely replies with, “Hello! I don’t believe I recognize you?”  
“Of course you wouldn’t,” she sneers, and Driftshade thinks she’s done something wrong. A voice calls for the unknown she-cat to be kinder, and her expression softens. “I’m Dappledstripe.”  
The name takes her to the elders’ den, to a time as kits; Splashfoot is regaling them with a story, and the three siblings are closely burrowed into the moss, their imaginations swimming with the storyteller’s words. A story of a stubborn cat’s downfall… The fall of Dappledstripe, she realizes, and Driftshade gasps. “You.”  
“Me.” Dappledstripe’s tail flicks. “I give you the life of admittance- you are a cat, and yes, you have emotions. You are weak, you are scared, and you are guilty. You are sad, angry, and yes, you are wrong. If you hide it, it only makes it worse. I learnt that the hard way.”  
Driftshade’s throat becomes dry at the truthful words, and when their muzzles touch, there is a glint of moonlit remorse in Dappledstripe’s eyes. A numbingly dull wave of lapping ache weaves through her, and she fights back unknown tears. Her belly feels full, and heavy, of regret and memory- she wants it out. Too weak to thank the cat, she watches as Dappledstripe goes.

There are only two more, Driftshade thinks, and neither of her siblings have come. It fills her with a unique emotion, of both relief and pain. Though all feeling is replaced with dread as Dawnstream emerges from the dark, her sister’s eyes smiling as they look at each other. “Driftshade!” she calls, and said cat is frozen.   
“It’s okay,” is all she whispers, and Driftshade musters a weak smile. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”  
“I’m here,” Dawnstream takes a breath, “To give you a life. Perhaps nothing went as planned, but we are here. I give you the life of lamentation, sister; maybe an odd life to give, but we do give you what you’re lacking. Grievance is absolutely alright, and you must weep over spilt blood, and you must tear yourself apart over loss. It is normal, and as a leader, you must know you are able to mourn, for it is all we can do when someone goes to Silverpelt, so high up and so far. A cat who does not feel heartache cannot feel joy.”  
Driftshade’s eyes are glassy and wet, and when she touches her sister again, all breaks and her lamentation is free. Every unshed tear, ignored breakdown, threatening nightmare flood into her bones and she collapses. Admittance, albeit painful, is freeing. “I love you,” Dawnstream says, and then she disappears all too soon. 

Now there is only one. There are two scary thoughts ahead of her; one, is to lead RiverClan. The other is to see Redfrost. Both will come true, and maybe she loathes it, but she is less mournful now. Her paws shift and fidget, though she tenses when a mahogany shape emerges from the dim. Aspenglow and Mallowpaw are still somewhere else, Driftshade thinks, and then she sees her brother, blue eyes meeting sullen yellow.   
“Drift?” he asks, and her jaw is stuck with a bitter cobweb of emotions.   
“Redfrost…”  
Redfrost shakes his head, as if he knows what she’s thinking. Knowing him, he most likely does. “It’s alright.”   
“No,” she says. “It never is, because you should be up here, and Dawnstream and you and Dad and Birdstar and everyone should be alive. Silversky, I killed her, and you… All of us, what have I even-”  
He cuts the rambling, eyes closed, calm as he dares to be- his anger is shown with a vicious flick of his ripped tail. “It,” he repeats, “Is alright.”  
“But…” Driftshade stops, looking away to the stars.  
“I give you the life of forgiveness.” Redfrost glares at his sister. “We do a great many things, as warriors. We fight, we win, we lose. Sometimes we hate, and though we love, we always mourn. Though we forgive. Sometimes, we let go. Yes, Driftshade, we forgive- and you must do that for yourself. I have forgiven you, a million times over. All of the stars, Drift! Look at them.” He gazes upward, darkness splashed with color like a forest canopy.  
“All of them. They all forgive you. Me, Dawnstream, we do too, you know. You made the right choice, believe me. This is how it should have ended up, and everyone else thinks so… Though not you. Driftshade, please, just let go.”  
“Forgive yourself,” he says, and she is speechless. Their muzzles touch, and she feels so light, like a breeze upon the moor. She is flying, she is free, and everything is okay now. It is over, like leaf-bare into green and thaw. An energy of light rivets her, a lightning strike and a feeling of utter carte blanche. Driftstar is renewed.   
Her new name is called, though she is deaf to the noise. She has shed her skin, and it has blown away with the winds that carried her up here.   
Turning into the dim, she is gone.


End file.
